A Long Night
by orangebluethought
Summary: Robin sighs as he listens to the ping of rain falling on leaves. It seems to rain a lot more now he no longer has a roof over his head.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Other than the Disney movie, and "The Outlaw of Sherwood" by Robin Mckinley, I don't own Robin Hood. **

**Presently this story is just a oneshot snippet of Robin and Marian's lives while he is an outlaw, but if I ever get the time (or a plotline) I might actually turn this into a multi-chapter story.**

!

Marian sits at the window watching the rain make tracks on the glass as she traces a line with her finger leaning against the window. Her breath turns the pane a frosty white and she draws a small heart, before wiping off the condensation. The forest is barely visible from her room, a dark shadow through the ceaseless rain. Marian would laugh at the fate of outlaws living within its recesses if it wasn't for him. _Them_, she corrects herself, _if it wasn't for them_.

"Lady Marian!" Her lady-in-waiting calls entering the room and placing her hand on Marian's shoulder. "You have to come down, your uncle—."

"My uncle doesn't rule my life." Marian stands up, throwing the hand off her and striding to her closet and grabbing her cloak. "I'm leaving."

"Marian." The lady calls, desperate. "Your uncle expects you to be there tonight, if you're not…I need this job"

Marian stops in the doorframe, turning back to her maid. "I'm sorry Rose. That was selfish of me. Do forgive me."

"Of course I forgive you milady, but you'd best to get yourself to the feast."

"Certainly." Marian replies, hanging the coat back up in her closet. The hope of visiting him—_them_ she corrects herself again—dissolves, and with one last glance out the window she leaves the room. She pauses at the top of the staircase, calming herself down with slow breaths before stepping down the stairs and heading to the feast.

"Marian my dear." Her uncle smiles.

"Sheriff." She responds, nodding to her uncle who pulls out a chair, where, sweeping aside her skirt she sits down, eyeing the other guests skeptically.

Marian leans back in her chair letting the buzz of conversation flow around her, her thoughts wandering the woods. With a jerk she pulls her attention back to the discussion listening intently for those words.

"Robin Hood." Marian's breath catches at his name, but she forces herself to focus on the following conversation rather then the man himself. The sheriff frowns. "He's a menace, completely disrupting our way of life. Steal from the rich give to the poor, who's heard of such a ludicrous thing. He thinks he's so great, so _moral_." The others repeat the Sheriff's opinion in sycophantic tones and the conversation turns to the Sheriff's favorite topic, how to catch Robin Hood.

"Isn't there some rumor of his uncanny archery skills?" Guy of Gisbourne —the nonexistent household of his family is a bitter recollection of his own lack of fortune— comments, a cunning smile on his face. "Perhaps we could entice him here with a contest."

"You think him so daft as to risk his safety and those who follow him by coming to a _contest_." Marian asks in surprise, glancing at Gisbourne. Although she doesn't like him much, she has always respected his intelligence.

"With the proper…_persuasion_," He hints, smiling meanly, but his gaze falls on the woman and his expression softens.

"Well," Marian considers. "That might work."

"Perhaps if we offer money, or riches..." The sheriff states. "Not that we'd actually give it to him."

"We should offer a golden arrow to the best archer." The Sheriff's newest toady (a young man, who's unrepentant leers always make Marian feel the need to shower) recommends.

"Yes, yes, that sounds magnificent." The Sheriff affirms, smiling slyly at Guy. Marian—to her amazement—exchanges a surprised look with Gisbourne. They both know what Guy's real intention had been. But Guy's position is too precarious, and Marian is too involved with the thief, that they both let the conversation wander to a different topic. Marian leans farther back in her chair, attempting to feign an interest in the conversation. It's going to be a long night.

!

Robin sighs as he listens to the ping of rain falling on leaves. It seems to rain a lot more now he no longer has a roof over his head, just the rather sodden tree branches over the somehow still unfinished, though rather well hidden, cabin the outlaws live in. He turns over and tries to get some sleep, but his mind is too occupied with money, food and other provisions for his small band of outlaws. And of course Marian keeps intruding on his thoughts; she is always high in his concerns. Her acquaintance with him and frequent visits to the forest hideaway, though the greatest pleasure he has in his rogue life, also cause him the greatest grief.

Still unable to sleep, he silently stands up and sneaks out of the cabin, almost treading on John's fingers and tripping over the deep sleeping Much, nearly stubbing his toe in the process. Running his hand through his hair, and wishing (not for the first time) for a roof and a lantern, Robin steps into the dripping rain. It isn't time to change the watch, but he is awake and his men need sleep. Heading to the tree where Scarlet usually keeps watch, he whistles a greeting.

"Robin?" is the groggy reply. "What is it, is something wrong?" Scarlet calls, coming completely awake as he jumps down from the soggy branches.

"Everything is fine, I couldn't sleep and thought I'd relieve you for a while…go get some rest."

"You should be the one resting Robin, how can you not be tired?" Scarlet yawns. "Little John told me you took his watch last night, and your own…and I have an odd feeling you fill in when you think we have too few people." Robin cringes slightly, but it is true, there is no use in denying. "Really Robin, you have to sleep sometime."

Robin smiles thinly. "I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"That's not funny." Scarlet blanches, shaking his head at Robin in horror.

"It wasn't supposed to be." Shoving his bow into his belt, he climbs the tree; leaning on a thick branch as he watches Scarlet disappear into the forest. The sound of the rain seems louder here, enclosed entirely by tree branches, the sweet smell of the leaves surrounding him. He feels relaxed for the first time all night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wooh, a whole second chapter, I am proud. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own Robin Hood**

!

It is still raining when Marian escapes out into the castle gardens later that night. The light from the dinning hall sputters across the flowers, she smiles at the daisies, her hand flickers to the clip in her hair. A gift from Robin, before the politics and danger and outlaws. Back when things were easier.

She wants to visit him, but there are still too many of her uncle's men sitting inside for her to willingly risk being followed. Instead she leans against a castle wall, underneath the roof overhang.

"Bored?" Gisbourne asks, joining her at the wall.

"You followed me."

"Yes." He turns to the girl, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You are the most interesting person here." A slight pause. "As well as the most beautiful." He reaches a hand towards her, brushes her hair behind her ear. Marian flinches back and Gisbourne sighs, leaning back against the wall.

"You still love him."

It is not a question (Gisbourne is well aware of her attachment) but she answers anyway. "Yes, I do."

"He's an outlaw," She winces. "Your uncle's nemesis." He pauses, watching her. "You cannot be together." Marian closes her eyes in defeat. (Gisbourne, apparently, is a sadist)

"I know that." Her eyes flutter open and she turns to him angrily. "I don't need reminding."

"Then why do you hold on?" He runs his thumb under her eye, erasing tracks of silver.

She flinches again. "I'm not trying to!"

Gisbourne leans over her, arms on either side of her face, trapping her between his warmth and the damp bricks. "Give up." He growls, "You can not be with him." He softens, saddens, "Choose me. You can be with me."

"I-I don't-"

He slams his fist into the wall, and Marian cringes away, watching wide eyed as he falls apart.

"Gisbourne" she whispers, but he pulls away and leans back against the wall, sliding to the ground.

She sits down, not too close to the man. (She may be worried for him, but she is still frightened.) "I'm sorry."

"I knew the first time I saw you together, that I didn't stand a chance. But now? He's an outlaw Marian! How can you still wait for him. It doesn't make sense. I may not be rich, but-"

"But nothing, Gisbourne. I. Do. Not. Love. You." She cries. Closing her eyes she takes a calming breath. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so harsh."

He scoffs, "Because there is a nice why to tell someone you don't love them." He is breathing heavy, "You don't even like me do you?" He demands harshly. "You never did."

"I respect you." She hopes it's enough (it's all she can offer), but he crackles with rage.

"Damn it, Marian." He growls. "Damn it." His voice breaks. He turns away and she struggles to come up with a response. Gisbourne stands suddenly, and walks stiffly into the rain before she can answer.

!

The sun is just creeping over the horizon when the outlaws congregate around the small, smoky fire Robin started with some dryer wood (but the fire still sparks and smokes from the waterlogged fuel). He fiddles with a mug as he waits for the kettle to boil. John settles next to Robin and grabs a mug himself. Inspecting a slight crack in the handle, he speaks softly to the man next to him. "There was a time when I felt my life was not worth anything." Robin shifts uncomfortably at John's words. "I am a walking 'Dead Man' Robin, there is a price on my head, but in this group, that phrase has a different meaning. In this group I have a purpose." He finally looks up, "We are doing something important Robin, don't ever forget that."

Robin sighs, and brushes his hair out of his eyes in an annoyed gesture. "This is about what I said to Scarlet last night, isn't it."

John smiles wryly at his unspoken boss. "We are worried about you Robin. Please, be more careful with yourself."

"I am careful." An indignant frown.

The large man's eyebrows shoot to his hairline. "Could have fooled me." He mutters, but he knows Robin was listening (though whether he will follow the advice, John doesn't know) so there is no point in saying more.

"So," Much calls, pushing between the men and breaking the tension in the camp. "What are we doing today?" Robin and Scarlet exchange amused glances as John removes the miller's arm from his shoulder in disgust.

"_We_ are not doing anything," John growls, "_You _are staying in camp and keeping watch with Alan, while _we_ (a motion to Robin, Scarlet and himself) prepare the ambush." Much pouts as the rest of the men laugh.

"Hey!" Alan calls, "Why do I have to stay?"

"Because you still can't shoot strait." Scarlet answers.

"Neither can Robin."

"Only when it's cold." Robin corrects, tracing the scar through his shirt.

"Besides," Scarlet adds, "Robin carries a sword."

"Alright, alright, I'll stay." Alan exclaims.

"Can we go now." Johns gruff voice cuts in. Scarlet nods, and catches up to him, but Robin remains by the depressed minstrel.

"Stay and heal, Alan. Ellen would never forgive me if I allowed you on adventures before you're completely healthy. I have enough people who want me dead, I don't need to add your wife to the list." He winks at Ellen, who has relaxed at her husband's acquiesce to Robin's words, pats Much on the shoulder (_You're the leader while I'm gone, Much. Take care of everyone, _he whispers to Much, who losses his pout and sticks his chest out with pride) before catching up with the other two men.


	3. Chapter 3

**Yay, another chapter. This one gives a bit more background on my characters.**

**don't own**

!

"I love tax day." Scarlet beams as the three men walk through the sun dappled forest.

John stops walking and sends Scarlet a scalding glare coupled with a slightly baffled expression. Robin struggles not to laugh at the dichotomy on his friends face.

Scarlet holds back his own smile and raises his hands defensively. "I don't enjoy tax day because of the taxes, I enjoy setting up the traps for the unsuspecting tax collectors. The strategy of appearing like a multitude of people when we are only three is thrilling. Don't you think?"

"He enjoys tax day," John mutters to Robin, "because of the strategy?"

"Scarlet _was _an amazing chess player before he became an outlaw." Robin returns, before raising his voice a bit. "Well, what are we chatting for? We have two ambushes to plan this morning, and another one this afternoon."

!

"I'm worried about Robin." Alan laments as he cuts up vegetables for the stew Ellen is preparing. "He remembers everything about our temporary…guests, (glares at the group of families huddled next to Much by the fire) always makes sure they are properly fed and given enough coins for their journey, but he never eats enough himself. He hardly ever sleeps because he is already doing everyone else's guard shifts. We have two families to take care of right now, plus the tax day ambushes. I'm injured, Much is still clumsy…I think we should stop taking people in."

"You know Robin would never agree." His wife replies, grabbing the sliced onions and throwing them in the pot.

"Yes, but every time we take in a family, Robin works harder. If we are going to keep taking people in they shouldn't stay this long. It's been a week for the Foresters and two for Mary and her daughter. We should have made them leave after a few days."

"That is why we have the chapel."

"But that only works if the people stay there." His gaze returns to the families by the fire. "if they keep coming here, someone is going to get hurt, and it will most likely be Robin because he is always so stupidly self-sacrificing. We need to make them leave."

"You won't be able to talk them into leaving that easily Alan." She sighs, "I think the only person who can is Robin. They love him just as much as we all do."

"Well we need to do something." He viciously chops at a carrot.

Ellen stills him with a gentle hand on his arm. "I know dear," she says softly. "Maybe we can talk to the Friar. He might have some suggestions."

!

Much cannot help but notice the furtive whispers of the married couple as Alan makes a depressing show of cutting carrots. He winces slightly at a particularly harsh slice and decides it might be time to intervene.

Coming up behind the two, he pretends he has no idea that he's interrupting and dips a spoon into the bowl of stew and takes a sip. "Needs a bit more basil." He ignores Alan's not so subtle glare at the intrusion. Ellen nods and gives him a small smile of thanks for his intercession, he nods almost imperceptibly back as she adds another leaf without question. When it comes to food, and people Much is frighteningly perceptive (He is also, apparently, a great actor as Ellen is quite certain only she -and Robin, who is even more intimidating in his insight than Much- has noticed his people skills). It's the politics he doesn't understand. _Though_, Ellen wonders as she watches the miller chastising her no-longer-so-worried-but-now-very-angry husband for improperly holding the cutting knife, _it may not be so much that he doesn't understand as that he doesn't care._


End file.
